Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals (21 page)

Peasley cuffed Babbington on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. A trickle of blood ran down his face from a wound in his temple.

Lara was surprised and impressed that Babbington didn’t cry out.

“Our boss is very angry. You betrayed him,” said Mr. Peasley. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

“You’ll tell us what we want to know,” said Frink, “or we’ll kill your friend.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” said Professor Babbington. “Can’t you see? She’s just a girl, a student, and not a very good one.”

“Stand up,” Frink said to Lara. She had got as low as she could against the back of the desk when Fife’s henchman had pulled his gun, but there was no way for her to get away from it, and she didn’t have a weapon. Lara stood.

“Where is the Golden Fleece? Do you have it?” asked Frink.

“There’s no such thing,” said Babbington.

Peasley cuffed the professor again, opening up the wound in his temple so that it began to bleed more profusely.

“She can speak for herself,” he said. “You’re a dead man.”

Lara looked into Frink’s face, and saw the cold, hard stare that had frightened her before. He was obviously determined to complete his mission. Nothing would stand in his way. She held his gaze for a moment. She thought about the statuette standing in its cabinet only a few feet away, and she thought about the Queen Mary tin in her rucksack with the little piece of fleece inside it that she’d taken from Menelaou’s room in Paris. She knew that Frink and Peasley would kill for the Golden Fleece. She also knew that she didn’t want to give up either artifact. Her only concern was Sam. She would do anything to help her friend recover from the horrors of Yamatai.

She looked from Peasley to Frink. Time seemed to stand still. She could see Peasley’s firm grip on the gun he was holding to Babbington’s head. She could see the tension in his trigger finger. She knew that the gun could go off at any moment, and that Professor Babbington would die instantly if Peasley pulled that trigger.

Then, she thought she heard the sound of feet running upstairs. Suddenly, the study door burst open. Peasley and Frink turned to face the door, guns still raised, but there was confusion on their faces. Professor Babbington fell to the floor, and Lara tried to duck.

She heard shots, but they were not what she expected. She didn’t hear the hard bangs of pistols firing. Frink and Peasley didn’t get any shots off. She heard the soft spit of silenced weapons. She felt the weight of a body falling into her. Then nothing.

Hydarnes, Xerxes, and Lydia unholstered their guns as they ran up the stairs to Professor Babbington’s office. They were through the door, and fired without warning as soon as they identified the targets. The bullets from their silenced Sig Sauers hit the body masses of their victims, and they went down hard.

Xerxes and Hydarnes began to search the study. Xerxes worked his way around the furniture, emptying the desk drawers and opening cabinets, and Hydarnes began to rummage through the shelves. Lydia bent over Lara’s still body and tugged at the strap of her rucksack to pull it free. Lara was still wearing the bag, and Professor Babbington’s body was lying half on top of her, so it was impossible to remove it. Lydia took a switchblade out of her boot and cut the straps holding the rucksack tight to Lara’s body.

Lara awoke to a strange dragging sensation and to the sound of breaking glass. She could feel someone moving close by. She listened and tried to remember.

There was shooting,
she thought.
They stormed in with guns and started firing. Am I dead? Why aren’t I dead?
She felt pain and weight and a warm, wet sensation. She located the pain in her back and ribs. Had she been shot? Was the wet sensation her blood. The seconds were ticking slowly by. She needed to know more.

Lara heard a moan among the clatter of objects being dislodged and the shuffle of feet. The figure close to her got up and strode away. Lara dared to open her eyes. She could see Babbington’s arm and head over her shoulder. He was lying across her back. That explained the weight. She could also see her rucksack with some of its contents spilled out. Someone had been going through her things. She rolled her eyes to take in as much of the room as possible. She could see the lower half of a woman in tight slacks and boots a few feet away, standing over a body that was slumped over the low chair.

No one was watching her, so Lara tipped her head up a couple of inches. The woman was Lydia, and she was pointing a gun at Peasley. He was twitching and groaning. His left hand was clutched over a wound in his chest, and his shirt was covered in blood.

Lara turned her head as she heard glass breaking again.

“I’ve got it!” said Hydarnes. “Finish him off, Lydia, and let’s get out of here.”

Lara saw the ram statuette in Hydarnes’s gloved hand at the same time she heard the Sig Sauer spit a shot into Peasley’s head.

Then, she heard another shot, and another. She dropped her head. She was next. She had to be next. But the shots weren’t from the Sig Sauer. The shots were hard bangs from weapons that weren’t silenced.

The Immortals moved fast, covering each other as they exited Babbington’s study and made their way into a hail of fire from the stairwell.

“What’s going on?” asked Lydia. “Armed response can’t be here already.”

“It’s got to be something else,” said Hydarnes. “No visual on hostiles. We’re taking fire from multiple directions.”

They returned fire, shooting into the corners and turns of the staircase from which they were being attacked. Hydarnes and Xerxes covered Lydia, who stormed the room below Babbington’s where two students were sharing a tutorial. She ushered them and their professor into the bathroom beyond and told them to lock themselves in. Then, she began to look for targets from the window down onto the quad. The Immortals were under attack.

“Hydarnes to Ares,” said Hydarnes. “Send in reinforcements. Now!”

They left a dead student in the stairwell, presumably caught in cross fire. There was no sign of the hostiles. Xerxes took a flesh wound to the thigh, which made him stagger down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he wedged himself behind the door and hurriedly wrapped the leg so that he could continue.

“Entering the quad. Cover us,” said Hydarnes.

“Copy that,” said Lydia from her position at the window above.

Chapter 28

L
ara breathed hard for a moment.

This is my chance,
she thought.

The Ten Thousand Immortals had left the study, and everyone else was dead. She opened her eyes and cast a glance around as much of the room as she could see from her position on the floor. It was chaos, and she knew that Hydarnes had the ram statuette, the second half of the Golden Fleece puzzle. But she was safe, for now.

She took another deep breath to assess her pain. It hurt to breathe. She guessed that she’d cracked a rib, maybe two, but her back felt OK, and she was confident that she hadn’t been shot. Professor Babbington must have blocked her body. Had he died to save her? She couldn’t be sure. She was bruised, and her left elbow was sore, but otherwise she thought she was fine.

Lara lifted herself onto her right elbow and shouldered Babbington’s weight. Then, she rolled hard to dislodge the man from her back. He was small, but dead weight was always heavy. Finally, Lara was on her knees on the floor. The cold, wet patch on her back was Babbington’s blood. He’d taken two shots, one to the gut and one to the chest, and he’d bled out onto the floor and onto her. His skin was ashen. Lara didn’t need to examine Frink to know that he, too, was dead.

Lara stuffed her belongings back into the rucksack, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised that Lydia hadn’t taken the Queen Mary tin with the piece of Menelaou’s fleece inside.

Now all I’ve got to do is retrieve that statue,
she thought. She stood up and began to tie the straps of her rucksack together so that she’d be able to carry it on her back. She could still hear shots being fired, and shouts and screams from the quad.

Lara went to the window and looked out. It was chaos. She watched for a moment as an older woman came out of one of the staircase doors to try to help one hysterical student who was standing screaming in the quad. The girl had to be manhandled out of harm’s way. Lara saw faces appear at windows, while some students and members of staff were trying to escape from the college, risking their lives to get away. One elderly man was red-faced and gasping as he ran around the perimeter of the quad, keeping close to the building. Another opted for the chapel, looking for sanctuary from the madness.

Lara didn’t hear Frink come up behind her.

Suddenly she felt an arm around her neck, pulling tight and squeezing her throat. She grabbed at the arm and pulled down, hard. At the same time, she drove the heel of her boot into what she hoped was her assailant’s instep. Her aim was good. The grip on her throat loosened. Still holding the arm, Lara twisted out from under the stranglehold and pushed, trying to turn her attacker and get him in an armlock.

It was only then that she saw the pale skin and bright blue eyes that identified her assailant as Mr. Frink.

Why wasn’t he dead?

Lara was caught by surprise, and despite the big man being weakened by a gunshot wound, she was unable to complete her move. Frink threw a left-handed punch, but Lara ducked, and he hit her shoulder instead of her head. The blow smarted, but she punched back with her good right arm, attacking him low, close to his injury. Frink doubled over and coughed, clutching at his stomach for a moment.

Then, he drove his head forward, butting into Lara, and knocking her sprawling to the floor before falling on top of her.

Lara had the advantage. She grabbed Frink’s head by the ears and rolled. He could not resist, and in the next moment she was straddling his torso. She got one good punch in to his jaw, before he lifted her off his chest and thrust her away from him.

Lara marvelled at his strength. He should have been dying, but he was coming after her, relentlessly. Lara pushed to her knees and reached behind her as she glanced at the desk. There was something on it. She grabbed it and swung. The object felt cold and hard in her hand, like marble. Frink saw it coming and ducked. It glanced off his face as he turned, connecting with Frink’s cheekbone hard enough to knock the object out of Lara’s hand, but not hard enough to knock him out.

Lara sprang to her feet. Frink lunged for her from his position, staggering to his knees. His arms found her waist, and she was on the floor once more. She fell hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her ribs ached, and sweat began to bead on her forehead from the effort of fighting Frink off.

She kicked out, her boots connecting with Frink’s ribs. He coughed again and groaned, and his hold on her loosened. She kicked again, and her foot connected with something hard. Lara leant back on her arms and winced at the pain in her left elbow. She favoured her right arm to drag herself away from Frink’s hold.

The gun,
she thought.
His gun is still holstered. If I can just reach his
gun.

Whatever injury Frink had sustained, he was coming after her, and he wasn’t going to stop. He was a born killer, and he was determined to kill Lara. She had to take him out first.

Lara scrambled to her feet. She glanced around for a weapon. The room was littered with objects. Someone had emptied the desk drawers, and artifacts had been tipped over on the shelves and in the cabinets. The floor was mostly clear, except around the bases of the shelves.

Lara didn’t want to risk bending to pick something up. She wanted to be on her feet. She wanted to be able to attack Frink and defend herself. She circled the room, her stance wide, her arms out, fists clenched.

Frink was on his hands and knees when she aimed a kick at him. He saw the looming boot and he twisted away. Lara’s kick missed, and the force of it driving into empty air made her lose her balance for a moment. It gave Frink the time he needed to get from his knees to his feet.

Frink was dishevelled and lumbering, but his eyes were fierce as he made to attack Lara once more. Lara darted around the room, avoiding the assault. Her eyes moved swiftly from Frink to the shelves and cabinets as she circled, dodging Frink’s lunging attacks. He was slowing down. Lara was able to duck and dodge his attacks, but she had to act soon, before he recovered enough to make a more effective strike.

She glanced at the gun in the holster under his arm and wondered why Frink hadn’t used it.

Lara sidestepped another clumsy lunge, and found herself close to a shelf of busts. Much of Babbington’s collection consisted of pots and vases and statues of various kinds, all of them fragile, breakable objects. Even under attack, Lara couldn’t stand the idea of destroying such beautiful antiquities, particularly after the damage that had already been done in the room. The busts were solid, cold marble. She took one from the shelf, and swung it once, forcing Frink to take a step back. The second swing disoriented the man, and then Lara lunged. She drove the bust hard into Frink’s solar plexus. He folded, letting out a hard, huffing sound.

Frink grabbed the bust in both hands as he went down on his back. Lara didn’t let go of her weapon, and was dragged down on top of him. She rolled to one side and grabbed for the gun in the holster under his arm. She pushed it against his chest.

Frink looked right at Lara with his bright blue eyes, and his lip curled in a smile.

If he thinks I won’t shoot, he’s wrong,
thought Lara. She pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Lara pulled the trigger again. Nothing.

“Guns are fine for threatening and coercing people,” said Frink, breathing hard. “When it comes to killing, a
man
does it with his bare hands.”

Frink had recovered his breath fast, and he swung a punch at Lara’s head. She was faster than he was. The shock of the gun having no bullets had made her more alert, not less, and she was already jumping off the prone man’s body when he tried to attack her again.